


Letter O: Orphans

by authorangelita (angel)



Series: Fic Alphabet Challenge: Teen Wolf [18]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Everyone else is dead, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 10:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6420772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel/pseuds/authorangelita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles stood on the edge of the cliff and watched Beacon Hills burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letter O: Orphans

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Fic Alphabet Challenge at [my Tumblr](http://authorangelita.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Warning: Multiple deaths (nothing graphic or 'on-screen'). Dark and angsty.
> 
> This diverges from canon at the end of Season 3A, after the surrogate sacrifices.

Stiles stood on the edge of the cliff and watched Beacon Hills burn. It had been coming for weeks, since he, Allison, and Scott had given power back to the Nemeton, since the tree stump had started to grow again. 

He didn't turn when he heard footsteps behind him, knowing that it would be Derek. It could only be Derek. Everyone else was gone. 

"Stiles?" Derek's voice was quiet, unsure, worried. A million different feelings rolled into one word. 

Stiles watched his hometown crumble for a minute longer before turning his back and stepping decisively away from the edge. "Let's go."

Derek didn't argue, just followed him back through the woods to where Stiles had parked the Jeep haphazardly on the old fire access road. 

When Stiles moved to open the driver's door, Derek's hand was suddenly on the metal, holding the door closed. "I'll drive."

"No one drives it but me." Stiles met Derek's gaze steadily. "Move."

Derek's eyes flared a brilliant blue. "You're in no condition to drive. Give me the keys."

Stiles wanted to be angry, wanted to spit nails and yell and scream. He just didn't have it in him. "No."

Derek's free hand shot out and dipped into the loose pocket of Stiles' jeans. He'd lost weight in the last few weeks. Food didn't taste right anymore. Nothing _felt_ right anymore.

It took his brain a long moment to process Derek's hand rooting for the keys, and then he jumped back with a flail of limbs and slapped the hand away. It was too late. Derek held up the keys and motioned for Stiles to go to the other side of the vehicle. "No," Stiles said again. 

"Don't make me tie you up and strap you in the passenger seat. Get in the Jeep." Derek's tone brooked no argument, but Stiles didn't care.

He stared at Derek for a moment before crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head. "No."

Derek growled and flared his eyes again, but Stiles wasn't a werewolf and wasn't easily swayed by the other man's antics. He held his ground, watching Derek's eyebrows dip and raise as his face betrayed his brain working through the best way to handle the situation. Stiles felt numb and exhausted, and he wanted to get out of here, to get away from all the bad memories. But he needed to be the one driving away from it all.

After several minutes of silent standoff, Derek took a deep breath and held out his hand. Stiles eyed him warily, waiting for Derek to make his next move. 

"I thought you wanted to leave," Derek's said, keeping his tone soft. 

"I do."

"Then, let's go." 

"Keys?"

Derek looked down at the keyring in his hands, and then he pitched it at Stiles, who fumbled but managed to catch it. "You get the first 50 miles."

Stiles shrugged and sat in the driver's seat. He gripped the steering wheel tight, taking what little comfort he could in the familiarity of it, as Derek climbed in the passenger side. The werewolf leaned over to latch Stiles' seatbelt before clicking his own into place. 

Stiles raised an eyebrow at the gesture, but Derek just stared back blankly. Clearly, this was one thing Derek would shut up about. Whatever. 

The engine turned over easily, and the gas tank was more than three-quarters full. Stiles made a quick three point turn and headed for the interstate. He had to drive through a familiar section of town to get there, and he clenched his jaw and stared straight ahead as they passed the high school, where so many of his friends had been slain by the beasts that had taken over the town with the Nemeton's resurgence of power. They drove by what remained of Scott's house, where he and his mother had died together, holding on to each other until the end. They drove by Stiles' house where he'd last seen his father alive before a pack of vicious wendigos had wiped out most of the Sheriff's department. 

They drove until Stiles couldn't see through his tears any longer. He pulled off the road, put his head in his hands, and sobbed. It was the first time he'd been able to feel anything since Beacon Hills had been overwhelmed by supernatural creatures weeks ago. He felt lost, like he was falling and there was no way to stop and no end in sight. 

Derek's hand was a warm, slightly rough, sensation on the back of his neck. It squeezed gently, and Stiles no longer felt alone, no longer felt like he was the only person in the entire world, an orphan in all ways. 

He cried himself dry and opened his eyes to find his body slumped between the bucket seats with his head against Derek's shoulder. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but he felt safe with the werewolf's arms wrapped around him. 

"Sorry. I'm sorry." Stiles scrubbed at his eyes as he sat up. His nose felt clogged, and his face felt itchy with dried tears, but his head was clearer. 

"Don't apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for," Derek said, giving Stiles the time to pull all of the pieces of himself back together. 

Eventually Stiles took off his seatbelt, opened the driver's door and slid out to stand beside the Jeep. Derek hesitated for a moment before following suit and moving around the vehicle to stand beside Stiles. 

"I don't know what to do now," Stiles said, looking up and down the abandoned roadway.

"Let's keep moving. Want me to drive?" 

Stiles looked over at him and nodded. "I'm so tired. I don't… I'm just tired." He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept.

"It's okay." Derek replied, rubbing a hand over his shoulder. "You can sleep, and I'll wake you when we hit civilization again."

"Okay," Stiles agreed. He was glad that Derek was with him and that Derek seemed to have a plan. Stiles had always had a plan before, but he'd had no way of knowing that the last several weeks would leave he and Derek as the only survivors of Beacon Hills. They would have to figure this out as they went, but first he needed to sleep.

~End


End file.
